


Miles Of Wheat And The Red Tailed Hawk

by Sabene4511



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mac Whump, Protective Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabene4511/pseuds/Sabene4511
Summary: Mac wakes up and can't remember anything of where he is nor how he got there. Just a bit of whumpy fluff.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 93





	Miles Of Wheat And The Red Tailed Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a break from my series and this story idea kept intruding on my ability to concentrate on it anyway. I'm still working on the series, just haven't had a lot of time oddly enough. I'm still working full time despite everything going on. Stay safe everyone!
> 
> Had to include the pictures of a red tailed hawk so you could all see this magnificent bird. Got them on google pics and merged them together. I don't own them and didn't take them.

**Miles Of Wheat And The Red Tailed Hawk**

\----------------------------------

Mac hums softly as he starts to wake. He’s warm and comfortable and really doesn’t want to wake up. Through his still closed eyelids, he can see the sun filtering through the tree branches as they sway in the gentle breeze that he can feel caressing his skin.

“Hmmm…” He doesn’t remember leaving the window open, but it‘s too pleasant to worry about. As he slowly continues to rouse, other things start to enter his awareness. The first odd thing he notices is that it seems he fell asleep without removing his shoes. Then he comes to realize that his head is not on a pillow. Followed very quickly by the surety that he is not even in a bed.

This more than anything is what motivates him to blink his eyes open. He looks up into an almost completely blue sky. A few wispy, white clouds drift lazily along. Framing his view of the sky is what appears to be...wheat?

“What the hell?” he whispers, perplexed.

Slowly sitting up he looks around. He is indeed outside and laying on the ground in what appears to be a field of wheat. Given that the crop is about four feet tall, he can’t see much else.

He’s fully dressed in blue jeans and his favorite blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He can’t hear anything but several different kinds of birds twittering away and the wind rustling the field around him. He hears no voices, no cars or vehicles of any kind...nothing.

He quickly but gently begins to check himself over, and finds no evidence of any kind of injury. He checks his head meticulously, twice. No blood, sore spots, and no headache. He isn’t feeling hung-over or drugged. There’s nothing that would explain why he can’t remember how he got here or when or why, not to mention where _here_ even is.

While checking for injuries he notices that he doesn’t have his cell phone because, of course he doesn’t. That would make things too easy. Though he does have his Swiss army knife, that’s something at least.

Quietly, he gets to his feet in a crouch then slowly rises up to peek over the tops of the wheat surrounding him. Looking in all directions, he sees nothing but a group of trees to his right and to his left far, far in the distance is what looks like a small house. That’s all, and what looks like miles and miles of wheat. The field is _huge_. He gets the impression that something is missing, but can’t quite place what it is.

One thing he knows for sure is if he’s lost out in the middle of who-knows-where, he’s _probably_ not alone.

“Jack?” He calls as loud as he dares. “Jack! Where are you?”

The only response to his voice is a large bird taking off from one of the trees with a screech. It’s beautiful. Mac couldn’t get a great look at it, but it has to have a wingspan of over three feet, maybe four. Probably a hawk or maybe an eagle of some kind. It soars high into the sky and starts turning in circles, hunting.

“Mac?”

He’d know that voice anywhere, but it seems to be coming from very far away and he can’t tell what direction.

“Jack? I hear you. Jack!”

No response. He can’t yell any louder since he doesn’t remember what’s going on. Is he safe? Were they running from whomever they had come to this peaceful place looking for? He still can’t hear anyone else. He decides his best course of action is to head towards the house. At least that way maybe he’ll run into Jack. Plus, if that’s where they were running to or from, maybe there will be a phone or radio, or something he can use to build one.

He keeps low so he doesn’t give away his location in case people are looking for him. The problem, keeping low also hides him from Jack, but he doesn’t really have a choice. He’ll have to figure out another way to find Jack if he isn’t at the house.

He pops his head up as few times as possible to make sure he’s still heading in the right direction. He walks and walks and walks. Each time he checks his progress, he never seems to get any closer. His back is starting to ache from walking hunched over, his legs are burning from the effort and there’s a stitch forming in his side. He decides to stop and rest.

He lays back down to stretch out his long frame for a few minutes and watches the hawk flying in loops above. The underside seems a very light color, maybe white, with dark wing tips. As it turns, he can see that the whole back of the bird is dark. The tail looks like it could be red. Huh, maybe it’s a red tailed hawk, pretty self explanatory.

His brow furrows as he again gets the feeling that something is not right. Watching the hawk for a few minutes he’s struck by what it is. _There’s no sun!_ The sky is bright and seemingly sunny, but the sun itself is nowhere to be seen. If it was simply low enough to be behind the trees then it’d be closer to setting and not this bright. The light just seems to be coming from everywhere. “What the hell?”

“Mac, buddy. Come on.”

Mac sits bolt upright. He sounds closer. “Jack! Where the hell are you?” He hears nothing. “Jack?”

He huffs a frustrated sigh. He needs to get moving. Already forgetting about the lack of a sun in the sky, he shifts to get back up. Pain shoots through his side for an instant and is gone. He pants out a few breaths, bracing for the pain to return, but it doesn’t. He cautiously unbuttons his shirt to take a look for anything that would explain it, but the skin where it hurt looks perfectly normal. He gently prods the area for something internal, but there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. Slowly getting to his feet, he feels fine. If he does have some kind of internal injury, he needs to find Jack sooner rather than later. He throws caution to the wind. 

“JACK!!” He yells as loud as he can. Pain flares in his side again, knocking the breath from him and dropping him to his knees.

“Mac?! I’m right here, man. Come on, look at me.”

Mac looks up and everything is dark. He’s inside, dust hangs in the air, his side is killing him and his head is throbbing. Jack’s blurry face hovers above him, worry clear in it’s features. His mouth is moving like he’s talking but Mac can’t hear anything. He blinks again and it’s all gone. He’s back in the field, laying on the ground. The pain in his side is gone too.

“Oh, shit.” He doesn’t bother to be quiet, he knows what’s going on now. At least, sort of. He’s hurt, probably badly, and he’s dreaming. Is it still called a dream if you’re unconscious? And why is this happening? He’s been injured badly before and not dreamt something like this. Is he worse than he’s ever been? Is he dying?

_Shit, shit, shit! What do I do now? Maybe I should stay here for a while, and sleep through the worst of the pain. But then Jack has to do all the work of getting me to a hospital. Where are we? Are we on a mission or did I blow up something at home? If we’re on a mission, then Jack may be in danger. I can’t make him fight his way to safety while carrying me unconscious on his back. And if I’m really dying, then I need to fight._

“Okay, so how do I wake myself up?” He sighs. “How did I do it last time? Oh yeah, JACK!!!”

This time there’s no answer. He closes his eyes tight and tries to will himself awake. He opens his eyes and sees the hawk floating serenely above him. Damn.

“Well, I can’t just lay here. There has to be some way to get myself out of this.”

He climbs to his feet. At least now he doesn’t have to worry about crouching to stay hidden. Since there don’t seem to be any better options, he starts walking toward the house again.

He has no idea how long he walks. It feels like hours and the house never seems to get any closer. To his right, he watches as the hawk dives for the ground, rising again with a prize in it’s sharp talons. Landing in a tree it starts on its meal while Mac keeps walking.

Suddenly, the light starts fading from the sky. Like the sun is setting in fast forward, or like someone is lowering a dimmer switch around him. _This can’t be good._

“Mac! Mac! Come on, man. Don’t you do this to me!”

The light continues to fade. In seconds it’s almost completely dark. Fear crawls up his spine, he can’t help it. He’s dying. He knows he is. And worse, Jack is watching it happen and can’t do anything about it.

“Jack!”

A sudden pain in his chest drops him to his knees. He leans forward, one hand on the ground, the other on his chest. His breath coming out in ragged pants. A second sharp pain and everything spins. His eyes open to bright lights, chaos and a cacophony of sound. Jack is there, but Mac can’t seem to focus on him.

There’s a siren blaring somewhere close and a woman shouting, “Got him back!”

Jack’s hand moves to his hair and his face gets closer. Close enough that Mac can actually focus on him. There are tears leaking down his face and his eyes are wild with fear. “Don’t you leave me, Mac. You hear me? You can’t do that to me, got it?”

Mac tries to smile as his eyes flutter closed again.

It’s over as fast as it started. The breeze in the field is as pleasant as ever, the non-existent sun shining brightly from nowhere. He lays still for a moment, collecting himself.

_Ok, so I’m in an ambulance now. That’s good. It means Jack is safe and I’m getting help. Now what?_

He sighs, looks up and just about jumps out of his skin. The hawk is less than five feet away, standing on what looks like a fence post and staring down at him. He was right, it’s a red tailed hawk, and at this distance it’s absolutely gorgeous. The red of the tail really pops and brown eyes seem to bore right into him.

Mac holds very still, not sure what the bird is doing and concerned about what might happen to him in the real world if something happens to him here. Those talons are really sharp and at least an inch and a half long, so they could definitely do a lot of damage.

Behind the hawk he notices that the house is less than 30 feet away. At least he doesn’t have to keep walking through a never-ending crop of wheat. Without warning, the hawk spreads its wings wide and takes off. It flies up to the roof of the house and lands with a loud screech, still watching Mac.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?” Mac gets up slowly.

He takes a careful look at the house. It definitely seems abandoned, but not all that worn down. Layers of dust cover the spaces not protected from the wind and there are no sounds of people talking or moving around. There _is_ some kind of hum coming from inside though. Above him, the hawk screeches again and when Mac looks at it, it bobs its head toward the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Shaking his head, he heads for the door. “This is so weird.”

He walks up three stairs to the front porch. Floor boards creaking softly underfoot as he crosses to the front door. It’s unlocked and opens easily, creaking on old hinges. His eyes take a moment to adjust as he enters the shaded space. Once they do, he realizes there’s really nothing to see. No furniture, no rugs, no kitchen appliances or cabinets.

There’s only one exception. Against the far wall, sitting on a non-descript box, is a large, old fashioned tube TV. Once he notices it, it turns on all by itself. As he approaches, the picture becomes clear. It’s showing his own house.

On the screen, he and Jack are in his kitchen making sandwiches for lunch. There’s no sound, but they’re laughing and clearly picking on each others’ sandwich building choices. Jack insists on putting potato chips _on_ his sandwich, which is just strange in Mac’s opinion. Chips are supposed to go on the side. And when Mac puts spicy mustard on his roast beef, Jack looks scandalized.

The dreaming Mac is chuckling softly at their banter when things on the screen change. TV Mac and Jack look up in alarm as bottles start falling off the shelves above the sink and everything starts shaking and moving. An earthquake. From the size of some of the things that are moving, it’s a big one too.

He and Jack start moving out of the kitchen, but before they can get far, the ceiling collapses. Even the Mac watching from the safety of the empty house ducks as part of a tree follows the ceiling crashing down. He watches as TV Mac gets hit by the tree and falls, hitting his head on the kitchen counter on the way down.

Jack comes back into frame, covering TV Mac with his own body as the house continues to shake violently. After about 20 seconds, things settle. Jack looks around cautiously before quickly getting up and checking on Mac. There’s blood on the side of Mac’s head and a large gash on his side, probably from one of the tree’s broken branches.

Jack wipes blood out of his own eyes, pulls out his phone and hits a speed dial before holding it to his ear with a shoulder and using both hands to put pressure on Mac’s side. The screen fades to black and turns off.

_So that answers the question of what happened to me, assuming it’s accurate and not just something my dreaming mind made up. But it doesn’t tell me what to do now. But if it’s true, and combined with what I saw the couple times I woke up, I should be at the hospital by now. If I’m in surgery, there’s no way I’m going to wake up right now._

Mac’s cheeks puff out as he exhales a slow breath trying to concentrate. He looks through the rest of the small house and finds the other rooms just as empty. With nothing else to do he heads back outside, sitting on the porch steps.

He looks out over the field, watching the gentle wind ripple across it like waves on the ocean. It’s really very peaceful. At least he’s stuck in a place that’s beautiful, though if he’s stuck here for any length of time he’s going to get real bored, real fast.

The hawk soars above him, gradually sinking lower before coming to land on the porch railing. It stares at Mac for a moment, the brown of its eyes strikingly familiar. It suddenly screeches at him and Mac jumps, startled.

His eyes fly open.

He’s staring at a ceiling. There’s a beeping to his left and a soft snoring to his right. He breathes in through his nose and smells the distinct odors of a hospital. The back of his left hand itches and he recognizes the pull of an IV. His right hand is wrapped in the warm strength of a familiar calloused hand.

He turns his head sluggishly to look at Jack. There’s a cut just into his hairline that’s been stitched up and a bruise on the side of his face. The lines of worry on his forehead have not entirely relaxed, even in sleep.

As much as he hates to wake his partner, he can’t stand him looking so worried. He squeezes his hand gently and Jack’s eyes snap open, alert and sitting up in a flash.

“Mac? Hey, buddy. Good to see you awake. How’re you feelin’?”

Mac thought about it for a second, but couldn’t really tell. “Mmm, foggy.”

“Yeah, they got you on some pretty good stuff. How much do you remember?”

Mac’s mind flashes back to the field, surprised he remembers it and what the TV showed him. “Um. I think there was an earthquake?”

“Yup. Registered 6.4, so not _really_ strong, but strong enough to crack the tree out front and send a chunk of it into your kitchen. Bozer’s getting someone for repairs and to make sure the rest of the tree is safe. He thinks it might have already been damaged for it to crack like that. You got skewered by one of the branches and knocked your head real good on something.”

“I think it was the counter. You okay?”

“Yeah, I got walloped by the damn tree too.” Jack says, pointing at the stitches. “And a couple bruises from stuff fallin’ but nothing too bad. You...you scared the hell outta me, man. Fuckin’ branch nicked an artery. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

Tears shine in Jack’s eyes that he refuses to let fall. He sounds a wreck. Mac hates that he made him worry so much and whispers “I’m sorry.”

Jack’s answering laugh is a little crazed. “What in the hell are you apologizing for?”

“Making you worry. Again.”

Jack’s eyes soften and he smiles down at Mac fondly. “Hey, don’t you start that again. We’ve been through this more than enough times. I’m _supposed_ to worry about you. That’s what partners do. That’s what family does.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to _like_ making you worry. When can I go home?”

“Well your home is gonna be a construction site for a few days. So you’ll be stayin’ with me until it’s done. As for when you can do that? Doc said probably tomorrow provided I promise to watch you like a hawk for signs of concussion or brain bleeding.”

Mac laughs tiredly. “You’ll need a red tail.” He laughs even harder at the look on Jack’s face.

“Say what now? Uh, maybe I should have the Doc come check for that concussion after all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain later. I’m gonna take a nap now.” Mac mumbles, his eyelids too heavy to hold open any longer.

“You do that, hoss. I’ll be here.”

“I know. You always are.”

“And that ain’t never gonna change.”

A lazy smile is all Mac can muster as he drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos are wonderful, comments are even better. I love hearing people's reactions to my work, it helps keep me going! Hope you enjoyed this!


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